Return to Apache Springs
by RedZipBoots
Summary: Hot and saddle-weary Curry and Heyes look forward to relaxing in a familiar, peaceful, sheriff-free town. A sequel to the season 2 episode: Six Strangers at Apache Springs.
1. Chapter 1

The distant hills shimmered in the heat as two riders made their way slowly over the parched ground. A harsh, hot wind gusted giving no relief; its sole purpose to drive along the tumbleweeds and whip up tiny dust devils which then wove their way between patches of creosote and mormon-tea.

Blue eyes squinted despite the brim of a brown hat tilted low to shade them from the glare. The rider turned his horse on the spot in order to study the horizon in every direction, paying particular attention to the way they had come.

Hannibal Heyes wriggled his fingers into the pocket of his pants to pull out a blue polka-dot bandana. There was no point using the one tied around his neck — it was saturated. Tipping his hat to the back of his head he wiped the film of sweat from his face. He didn't know why he was bothering; it would be replaced by more, seconds later. "Any sign of 'em?"

"Nope. I know we lost 'em yesterday back in that canyon, but it don't hurt to keep lookin'," replied an ever-vigilant Kid Curry.

"For a small-town posse they sure were a determined bunch."

"Twenty thousand dollars buys a lot of determination, Heyes."

"Yeah, well, for a while there I thought that chase was gonna be the end of us and these horses. Just look at them, they can barely stand. We've gotta get them some food and water soon or we'll be walking, not riding, the rest of the way."

"Can't be much farther, can it?" Kid nudged his horse into a walk.

"Well, if I remember right, it isn't far beyond that line of hills."

Unlike his cousin, Kid Curry ignored the trailing beads of sweat that were making their way down his cheek and gave a vague shake of his head. "Pfft. I can't believe we're goin' back there."

"Kid, it's the nearest place I know where we can hole up for a while." There was a tired edge to Heyes' voice as he too urged his horse forward. "What have you got against Apache Springs, anyhow?"

"Oh, I haven't got anythin' against it. Never had a mind to go back, is all." Kid shrugged amiably before adding, "D' you think Smithers is still running the hotel?"

"I can't think who else would want to do it. Anyway, all we need for a few days is a bed and a saloon — and that place has both." With a salacious smirk Heyes added, "Of course, if you're hankerin' after something sweet and soft and pretty, then you're gonna be out of luck. Sister Grace is most likely long gone."

Kid's humourless smile told his partner what he thought about that remark. "I'll be happy with a bath, a meal and a bed to sleep in 'cause _sleepin'_ is all I plan on doin'."

It was almost a year to the day since the two former outlaws had ridden into the old mining town of Apache Springs, their hearts set on enjoying a few days peace and quiet. Instead, Caroline Rangeley, a somewhat eccentric middle-aged widow, had persuaded them to retrieve some gold dust which she and her dearly departed husband had hidden in twelve separate locations up in the surrounding hills. This had sounded like a simple enough task — not to mention easy money; all they had to do was follow the directions on the map she gave them, dig up the gold, and half of it was theirs. Caroline had mentioned that some fifty or sixty Chiricahua Apaches had broken out of their reservation and returned to the hills but assured them that they wouldn't be in the area she was sending them to. On their first trip they managed to retrieve two one-thousand-dollar caches before being shot at and chased by the Chiricahua. However, after due consideration and a night of drinking and playing poker in the saloon they returned in search of more of the gold only to once again fall foul of the Apaches. Add to this the presence of Edward Fielding, a representative from the Bureau of Indian Affairs sent to negotiate with the tribe, his wife Lucy who didn't, under any circumstance, want to be out West and a pretty young evangelist by the name of Sister Grace, it had turned out to be an eventful stay. They hoped that this time things would be quieter.

Having taken the precaution of doubling back a couple of times in case the posse tried to pick up their trail again, they eventually found themselves riding down Apache Springs' main street. After not more than a few yards Kid abruptly reined in his mount, twisting in his saddle as he looked about him.

Heyes sighed and asked impatiently, "Now what?"

"This is the right place?"

Heyes prided himself on never forgetting a town or a sheriff and in his current hot and trail-weary state resented his cousin's dubiety. "Course it is. Look!" he snapped, indicating a tattered sign. "It says, Apache Springs Assay Office."

"Well, I sure don't remember it being like this."

"What are you talking about?" Heyes glanced around. The street was deserted — same as before. The Assay Office sign squeaked loudly as it swung in the wind — same as before. Tumbleweeds blew across their path — same as...

Then he saw what Kid meant.

Although it had given a very good impression of a ghost town the last time they were here, the old mining town now appeared to actually be one. Most of the street doors were missing and the few that were still in place flapped noisily back and forth in the perpetual wind. Almost all the windows were smashed or had broken shutters hanging precariously on their hinges. Shards of glass and other debris that hadn't yet been blown away littered the boardwalks.

"Heyes, this don't feel right." Kid kept his voice low and his right hand resting on the butt of his revolver.

"I'm inclined to agree with you. Let's take a look at the hotel."

Continuing cautiously past the livery stable's empty corral they dismounted in front of the largest building in town. Leaving the horses in a patch of shade, both men drew their weapons. His gun leading the way Kid Curry eased the front door open and both men jumped as a cracked pane of glass fell to the floor with a crash. Grinding the glass beneath their boots they entered the lobby and stood in shocked silence.

Pages torn from the register and other ledgers were scattered everywhere as were the room keys. Any pictures still hanging from their hooks on the walls did so at an obtuse angle, the lobby desk was on its side and the stairway had over half of its balusters missing. Even the large, carved newel post leaned precariously.

Walking through to the saloon they stared in disbelief at the wanton destruction. Chairs and tables resembled firewood. The mirror behind the bar was smashed as were the glasses and bottles, the contents of which had left large stains on the bar and the floor as they dried. In fact, it appeared that everything that could break had been broken.

"What the...?."

The dark-haired partner shook his head. "Must have been one hell of a Saturday night."

At the rear of the building they came to the kitchen which had been completely ransacked. Rotting foodstuffs were strewn everywhere, those that had not been eaten by vermin anyway, and the whole place smelled foul. Both men barely breathed as they surveyed the mess before making their way out of the back door and into the fresh air.

"What do you think happened here, Heyes?"

"Could have been bandits from Mexico. A bunch of renegade soldiers, maybe? I've heard they sometimes raid small towns like this." Heyes glanced sideways at this partner. "You got any ideas?"

Kid shrugged. "There's always Apaches."

"It's possible, but I don't recall ever hearing about them attacking a town. Let's take a look upstairs."

As Heyes turned and put his hand on the doorframe Kid grabbed his arm. "Hold up, Heyes. What's that over there?" he said, pointing toward the hot, barren landscape.

Heyes adjusted his hat and took a long look. "Hmm, could be a body. C'mon."

The closer they got the clearer it became that what they had seen was indeed a body. It was a man, face down in the dirt, and it had been there for some time. Flies buzzed noisily over what was left of the putrid flesh clinging to his bones but this didn't bother them quite as much as the missing scalp or the two arrows sticking out of the victim's back.

"Aaww, no," groaned Curry. "I think it's Smithers."

Hannibal Heyes took a deep breath and holding it moved a few steps closer to push over what was left of the corpse with a hefty flick of his boot. This succeeded in disturbing a multitude of flies, beetles and ants as well as releasing an overpowering stench which made both men take a few quick steps backwards and turn away as they fought the urge to gag. With watering eyes Heyes looked back over his shoulder and croaked, "I'd say that's Smithers alright; well, what's left of him, poor devil. He must've been trying to make a run for it."

"I thought Fielding said the Chiricahua had agreed to return to the reservation."

"He did say that," agreed Heyes. "Maybe the negotiations turned sour or the army decided to come in and move them by force. It probably wouldn't take much more than that to set them on a warpath."

"I can't believe Smithers is still lying out here in one piece... well, kinda one piece." Kid regarded the corpse again and shuddered. "I'd have thought the coyotes would have torn him apart by now. How long ago do you think this happened?"

Tired of having to breathe through his already dry mouth Heyes started to retrace his steps. "Three weeks, maybe four. Let's go put the horses up, Kid, then we'll look around some more."

Kid Curry flung his arms wide. "So, we're just gonna leave him like this?"

"Do you wanna get close enough to bury him?" Heyes called back. "Because I don't. Anyway, I doubt whether you'd get a shovel in this ground. It's like rock. If we find something that'll cover him then we can come back and say a few words, okay?"

With a sigh Kid followed his partner.

The livery stable still had a good supply of straw and they even discovered a half-used bag of grain which had not yet been consumed by vermin and didn't smell mouldy. No horses or mules remained but all the tack was still there — Indians didn't tend to have much use for saddles. Having brushed down their horses they left them munching happily on a good portion of the feed and returned to the hotel.

Making their way upstairs they searched all the bedrooms but thankfully there were no bodies. Finding one of the rooms at the front of the building to be relatively intact, except for the windows, they dropped their saddlebags onto the bed and returned downstairs to explore further. A soft dusty bed was better than hard dusty ground and it would suffice for a night or two provided they could find some food to supplement their own dwindling supplies.

The general store across the street was their next stop. Here, every sack containing dry goods was slit open, the contents spilling out all over the floor, but they did manage to gather together a number of undamaged cans of tomatoes and peaches, as well as a few containing oysters.

Venturing through to the rear of the store they came upon another gruesome find. The storekeeper, Mister Evans, was slumped against the side of the outhouse, his condition not much better than Smithers'. He had met an equally grisly death; his throat had been cut from ear to ear.

"I don't know about you," said Kid, "but I don't much like the idea of staying here too long."

"So you don't fancy living on peaches and oysters?"

"It's not that, Heyes, it's... Well, it's... kinda creepy."

"Don't tell me you're scared of Smithers' ghost!" scoffed Heyes.

"No, I ain't scared of ghosts but I _am_ a might fearful of Apaches."

Heyes nodded. He shared that sentiment alright. "Shame they've taken all the ammunition. I don't think they'll come back anytime soon but, if they did, we might stand a chance of holding them off using our rifles if we had a good supply of bullets. Evans kept a whole stash of them here," Heyes added as he rummaged through what was left in the drawers behind the counter.

"I've got almost a full box in my saddlebags but that wouldn't last long," confirmed Curry.

"Hmm. Then I guess we'd better rest up for a couple of days and move on. Tucson ain't much but it will be paradise after this!"

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Having scoured the remainder of the town and not found a living soul, only a handful of corpses all with missing scalps, they returned to the hotel where Heyes managed to track down the only intact bottle of whiskey in the whole place. Neither man happened to have much of an appetite for food so they sat on the floor with their backs against the bar, passing the precious commodity back and forth between them.

Eventually, Heyes got to his feet and walked back to the lobby where he stood thoughtfully rubbing his stubble-covered chin. Kid Curry's eyes followed him with interest.

"What is it, Heyes?"

"I was just wondering if there's anything in this old safe."

"Wondering, huh? Hoping, more like! I know you, Heyes. You think Caroline's map is still in there, dontcha?"

Glancing over his shoulder Heyes raised an eyebrow. "Maybe." He began to pull off his gloves.

Curry placed the half empty liquor bottle on the bar before ambling over to join him. "I knew you wouldn't be able to resist it," he stated, leaning nonchalantly against the wall.

"Well, it don't belong to anyone anymore, Kid, so I won't be committing a crime."

Heyes knelt down in an all-too-familiar pose next to the safe, his eyes twinkling in anticipation of pitting his wits against the tumblers, not to mention the thought of getting his not yet fully reformed larcenous fingers on whatever was inside. He had opened several safes since they had started trying for the amnesty but had only done so in order to look through the contents or to put money back. He had certainly not taken anything — except for that old bust of Caesar for Big Mac McCreedy — but, in Heyes' estimation, that came under the category of 'recovery of stolen property' and therefore didn't count as theft.

"You want me to time you for old time sake?" asked Kid, reaching into his pocket.

Heyes glanced again at the manufacturer's name. "Mason and Mason. If I remember right, I used to open one of these little darlin's in about three minutes." Flexing his fingers he placed his ear to the metal door and took hold of the dial.

Kid concentrated on his timepiece. "Ready... Go!"

Heyes gently turned the dial clockwise until he heard a click, slowly turned it back in the opposite direction until he heard another, then clockwise again, even more slowly this time, listening intently for the third and final tumbler to fall into place. At last there was a click loud enough even for Kid to hear and he noted the time. Brown eyes glanced up enquiringly. "Well?"

A shake of the blond head. "Pfftt. A little over four minutes, Heyes. Pretty slow — for you."

"That's what happens when you don't get any practice," replied the retired safe-cracker as he pushed the handle forward and turned his attention to the small vault. "Now, let's see what we have here."

The minute the door swung open Heyes' eyes came to rest on a small bundle of dollar bills which he didn't bother to count before shoving it into his pocket. Ignoring several old ledgers he pulled out a lock box.

"Ah, this could be it."

Returning to the bar, Heyes swept away some of the broken glass and proceeded to pick the lock on the metal box. Unable to break the habit of a lifetime he always had a lock pick tucked away somewhere on his person. In the time it took for Curry to cross the room after him, he had it open. Inside was a large piece of paper with a good portion of the bottom right-hand side missing. Unfolding it Heyes immediately recognised the obscure drawing to be the locations of Caroline Rangeley's caches of gold dust. Now, however, there were only two sites that didn't have a large cross drawn through them.

"Looks like old Caroline did what she said she was gonna do — go and get rest of the gold by herself," said Heyes, the faintest trace of disappointment in his voice.

"Well, she must've lit out soon after 'cause we ain't found her body anywhere in town."

Tapping the map with his fingers, Heyes mused, "Wonder why she didn't go after these two?"

"Maybe that part of the hills is still overrun by the Chiricahua."

"Don't say that!"

Kid stared at Heyes, his eyes narrowing with disapproval. "You can't be thinkin' of going after those two caches? You're outta your mind!"

Heyes smirked at his cousin's appraisal. "Maybe just a little. But, Kid... _two thousand dollars_! We could really enjoy Tucson with that kinda money."

"Yeah, we could, if we don't lose our scalps trying to get it!"


	2. Chapter 2

The discussion about whether to go after the remaining gold continued on and off for the next two days. Heyes persevered with his argument that the Apaches, for fear of reprisals by the army, would have returned to the reservation or moved out of the area by now. Kid Curry was not convinced. Not only did he have a desire to reach old age he was quite fond of his blond curls and did not like the idea of them hanging as a trophy from a brave's war lance. However, in the end Heyes' doggedness wore him down and early on the third day they packed in some supplies including two new shovels courtesy of the general store, saddled up their horses, and headed off into the hills.

"So, you can read that map without any explanation from Caroline, can ya?" queried Curry cynically, only taking his eyes off the surrounding area for the two seconds it took to glance at his partner. These scrub-covered hills all looked the same to him as did every site drawn on Caroline's map.

Heyes smiled confidently. "Sure I can. We'll ride out to where we found the first cache and work our way round from there. It'll be the easiest money we've made since we went straight."

"You said the same thing last time, Heyes, and it wasn't. We spent a night tied up, not knowin' if we'd see another day. Remember? If it hadn't been for Mister Fielding being there and him being able to speak a language those Apaches could understand we'd probably have been... Well, I don't like to think too long about what mighta happened. Kinda turns my stomach."

"Stop worrying, Kid. We'll be fine."

Later that day they arrived at the place where, on their previous visit, they had dug up the first cache of gold dust. Dismounting, Heyes took the map from his breast pocket and after roughly orienting the piece of paper with a stream and the surrounding hills he crouched down, placed it on the ground and weighed each corner down with a stone.

"You gonna come take a look?" he asked, peering up at the Kid who had remained firmly in his saddle.

"Don't need to. You're the one who said he could read Caroline's map."

Heyes let out a long-suffering sigh and pointed to the missing bottom right hand corner. "Well, this part, this is where we are now. And here," he pointed to the upper left hand side, "this is where the gold is."

"Uh-huh."

"Don't you want to know where we're going?"

"You go right ahead and figure it out. I'll keep watch for Apaches."

"You're wasting your time. They'll be long gone."

"That's what you keep sayin', Heyes, but I'll just keep lookin'."

Hannibal Heyes traced a route with his finger. "If we head over that way — east, I think — between those two hills," he pointed to his left, "the first cache can't be more than another day's ride away."

"That way, huh?" Kid nodded in the direction Heyes had indicated then squinted toward the sun. "Yep, that's east alright. You sure you wanna do this?"

"Sure, I'm sure."

"I still say we could be riding straight into an Indian camp, or worse — a war party."

"Jeez, Kid, what's gotten into you?" Heyes asked as he folded up the map. "You're as jumpy as a cat in a room full of rockers."

"I can't begin to think why that would be, Heyes... Oh, yeah, it could have somethin' to do with those missing scalps back at Apache Springs," came his cousin's sarcastic reply.

"But, we haven't seen any sign of an Apache all morning!"

"It don't mean they ain't out there."

Shaking his head at his partner's unrelenting scepticism Heyes stowed the map safely in his pocket, swung himself back into the saddle and kicked his horse into a lope. Curry, on the other hand, took a moment to carefully survey their surroundings once more before moving on.

The remainder of the day passed without incident but as nightfall approached Kid found he was even more jumpy than before. All day long he had tried to put what he had heard about Indians out of his mind but without success. He could still recall how, as a little boy back on the farm in Kansas, he had sat hugging his knees wide-eyed and open-mouthed, listening to his two older brothers tell lurid tales of Comanche raids on unsuspecting Texas homesteaders. He could even picture the look of horror on his cousin's face as he recounted the stories to Heyes the following morning on the way to school. The fact that they had been freed unharmed by their native captors the last time they were here, made no difference to the way he felt. He still believed a greater part of those gruesome tales to be true.

"Can't wait to get a good fire going," Heyes said with a shiver as he gathered up handfuls of dry grass and twigs. The sun's absence was making the air temperature drop rapidly.

"I was figurin' on a small one. We don't want to be seen too easily."

Brown eyes rolled. "You still harpin' on about Indians?"

"Yeah, and I'm gonna keep 'harpin' on' about them until we get outta these hills. You always say you like it when I worry, Heyes, well it don't sound like you're appreciating it right now."

"Oh, I am, Kid, I really am," Heyes replied with as much sincerity as possible.

"I think we should take two hour watches," opined the blond pulling a fallen branch from beneath a tree and breaking it into more manageable pieces under his boot.

"Now that I don't appreciate! How about every four hours?"

"Uh-uh. It's easier to stay awake for two hours at a time. We can't afford to get complacent."

"Complacent! That's a fancy word — for you." Heyes struck a match. The kindling flared momentarily, as did his partner's eyes.

"I know plenty of fancy words. I just don't see the need to use 'em all the time."

The crown of the black hat quickly dipped in Kid's direction in order to hide the wearer's amusement. "You wanna flip a coin to see who takes first watch?" Heyes asked innocently as he placed a few small branches into the developing flames.

"Don't bother gettin' that bogus coin of yours outta your pocket, Heyes. I'll go first."

After completing the first watch Kid Curry roused his sleeping partner and once he was certain that Heyes was sufficiently awake, allowed his own tiredness to overcome him. He could not have been asleep for more than an hour when a sound invaded his subconscious enough to have his eyes open in a flash and his gun in his hand.

"Jeez, Kid, what the devil did you do that for!" complained a bleary-eyed Heyes.

"Did you hear that?" Kid strained to see beyond the faint glow of the dying camp fire. Being used to sleeping out of doors he was well acquainted with the sounds of the night, but right now he was trying to decide whether that call had really come from a spotted owl, or from somebody imitating one.

"Hear what? The owl?"

"You sure it was an owl?"

A flicker of doubt momentarily crossed Hannibal Heyes' face but still he refused to be drawn into Kid's negative mindset. "Sounded like one to me," he confirmed, confidently.

_Hoot, hoot, hoot. _

The Colt remained aimed into the darkness. "Well, I ain't so sure."

"Don't go shooting at nothing; that'll bring those Apaches you seem to think are out there straight to our camp."

Kid frowned. "When have I ever shot at nothin'?"

"Well, there was this one time... Okay, never," corrected Heyes quickly before his partner could start getting riled. "Everything's fine, Kid, go back to sleep."

The blond head shook. "Nah, I'm awake now. I'll take another watch."

Hannibal Heyes didn't need telling twice, but as he settled back against his upturned saddle and snuggled under his blankets, he found himself wondering whether his partner's caution was quite as misplaced as he had first thought. _The Kid must be nervous,_ he reasoned, _he never passes up a chance to sleep. _Dammit, he hated it when Kid was nervous! Determined not to let it get to him Heyes closed his eyes. The sound of his partner methodically checking the load in his Colt, clicking through the chambers one by one, was to him as good as any lullaby. He smiled, content in the knowledge that while he slept the fastest gun in the west would be watching over him.

Dawn had barely faded the first star from the sky but already Kid Curry was up, his horse saddled and his belongings stowed behind the cantle. He had just started to bridle his partner's sorrel when Heyes opened his eyes and blinked at him sleepily.

"You're starting early," he said through a yawn.

"The sooner we get to the first site, Heyes, the closer we are to gettin' outta here. Get up, I need that saddle."

Heyes grunted in protest as the aforementioned saddle was pulled out from under his head before he'd even had time to sit up. He rubbed his eyes, recalling that Kid had not woken him for another watch. Still not fully awake he began slowly folding his blankets before rolling them up in a piece of tarpaulin.

"C'mon, c'mon!" urged his cousin.

"I'm moving as fast as I can, Kid."

Casting a belligerent look in his partner's direction Heyes knotted the second saddle string and tossed the hastily tied bundle toward a pair of waiting hands before disappearing around the far side of the nearest tree.

"At least give me a minute to do this," he complained, brown eyes peering round the trunk.

Kid vaulted into his saddle. "Yeah, well hurry up."

"You know what happens if you rush me."

"Just get on with it, will ya!"

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

The air was pure and clear, the sky a vast swathe of uninterrupted blue, and a light breeze whispered seductively amid the tall dry grasses. Kid Curry leaned forward on his saddle horn and, as the black gelding trod the course of the stream, he found himself whistling softly through his teeth in time to the rhythm of its hoof beats. He could feel his ill-temper from earlier slipping away and for the first time in days he found himself starting to relax.

Unfortunately, this feeling proved to be short-lived because, as the morning progressed, the breeze disappeared and by noon the heat had again become brutal, adding emphasis to the fact that the narrow flow of water Heyes had indicated they should follow had now dwindled to a mere trickle. The further they ventured down the dried up watercourse the more the land rose up on both sides restricting their view of the surrounding area and making it the perfect location for an ambush.

Concerned once more, Kid sat up straight in his saddle and asked, "You sure it's this way?"

"Yep."

"How far?"

"About half a mile, I'd say." Heyes glanced over his shoulder and noted the pucker in his partner's brow. "Now what's bothering you?"

"Same thing as yesterday."

Although he couldn't see them, shaded as they were deep under the brim of the dusty black hat, Kid knew Heyes had rolled his eyes.

"Look, Heyes, I appreciate your faith in me to keep us safe an' all, but those Chiricahua got the drop on us real easy before — right out in the open. What do you figure our chances are down here in this gully?"

Heyes took a more considered look at their surroundings but casually dismissed any misgivings. "We've come this far, Kid, let's keep going. We'll be outta here in no time." He added with a grin, "A whole one thousand dollars richer!"

Twenty minutes later Heyes exclaimed "There!" pulled his horse to an abrupt halt and pointed to an arrow scratched on a rock half way up the gully wall. This arrow pointed downwards to a large pile of rocks on the ground. With a whoop he leapt from his saddle and began to pull the rocks away one by one. Somewhat surprised that his partner had stayed mounted, but without bothering to turn around he griped "Are you gonna help, or are you just gonna sit there and leave me to do all the hard work?"

"Heyes."

"Oh-ho, here it is!" A burlap poke packed hard with gold dust was triumphantly held aloft.

"Heyes!"

"What?!"

Heyes turned and with a groan slowly raised his hands in the air mirroring his partner. On both sides of the gully stood a number of long-haired, buckskin-clad men. Some carried rifles, others bows and arrows, all of which were aimed in their direction.

"Apaches." Kid gave a flat, humourless smile. "Like I said."


	3. Chapter 3

Hannibal Heyes was certain that the blisters on his feet must be fast approaching the size of silver dollars. Cowboy boots were made for riding not walking, let alone running, and he had been towed along at a steady jog behind a horse for what he imagined must be two hours now. He was hot and thirsty and his wrists were sore and bleeding from the coarse rope that bound them. Blinking away the stinging sweat which continuously ran into his eyes he cast a concerned glance toward his partner.

The briefest show of reluctance to get down from his horse had resulted in Kid Curry being pulled from the saddle by a fierce-looking Indian and struck hard between the shoulder blades with a rifle stock. As he watched his cousin fall to his knees with a groan Heyes had let out a cry of his own — one of protest — but had been silenced by the same warrior nudging him in the chest, this time with the rifle barrel. In comparison to the Indians they had previously come across these Apaches appeared to be wearing war paint and were infinitely more hostile, and it had taken Heyes no time at all to conclude that any resistance on their part would be dealt with swiftly and painfully.

The pace was relentless and both men stumbled frequently. The more they tired, the greater the effort they had to put into staying on their feet for fear of being dragged over the uneven, scrub-covered ground.

Sundown was almost upon them by the time they arrived at the Indian camp. The majority of the last mile had been uphill so the minute they came to a halt their legs gave way and they gratefully sank to the ground. Here they remained, sweat-soaked, breathless and hurting, until several braves hauled them to their feet and dragged them into a nearby tipi. An involuntary yelp escaped both men as the ropes around their wrists were cut and their hands re-tied behind their backs, this time with narrow leather strips which dug ever-deeper into already raw skin.

A brief and seemingly agitated discussion then ensued between their captors. When nothing untoward happened and the braves departed, the two men sat in relieved silence before summoning up their remaining strength to try and loosen the bindings. It was not long before their sore wrists and swollen hands were slick with blood but they persevered with their assault on the tight, unyielding knots until, exhausted and discouraged, they leaned back against one another taking what solace they could from the close contact.

Despite his thirst Heyes managed to gather enough saliva to speak. "You okay?"

Kid Curry started to answer but the words caught in his dry throat and caused a fit of coughing. Eventually summoning up some saliva of his own Kid rasped, "Could do with some water to cut this dust."

Heyes grunted. "That ain't gonna happen."

Resting his head back against his cousin's sweat-drenched curls Heyes sighed, long and deep. "I'm real sorry, Jed, this is all my fault. It was my idea to come looking for the gold and now look at the mess we're in. I should have listened to you. If we end up dead, I'm never gonna forgive myself."

It started as a low rumble but Kid Curry's chuckle soon developed into a guffaw prompting some more dry coughing. Heyes tensed, concerned for his cousin's sanity.

"Heyes, that has gotta be the dumbest thing you've ever said!" Kid choked out.

"Huh?"

"Well,_ if you're dead...!_"

"Oh, oh yeah." Heyes smiled to himself but this quickly changed to a frown as the prospect of a slow death again loomed large.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

A bright half moon together with an abundance of starlight illuminated a lone figure passing through the camp carrying an armful of firewood. At the sound of hushed voices the figure inclined an eager ear toward the tipi wall.

Heyes had been trying to doze but found his anxiety and physical discomfort too great. "Hey, Kid."

"What?" Kid Curry couldn't sleep either.

"I wonder what that discussion was about."

"What discussion?"

"The one between those Apaches after they tied us up. Sounded like an argument to me."

"You can do a lot of things, Heyes, but speakin' Apache isn't one of 'em."

"I only said it _sounded_ like an argument."

"Well, it don't matter what they're sayin', it always sounds like an argument to me," grumbled Kid. "Maybe they were tryin' to decide the best way to kill us."

"They've got a few choices, from what I hear."

"Probably be up to whoever's in charge."

"Probably."

"Anyhow, ain't it about time you started workin' on one of those special Hannibal Heyes plans o' yours?"

"I _am_ workin' on a plan!"

"Good. 'Coz that's the only thing that's gonna get us outta this."

Heyes smiled gratefully. "It's good to hear you've still got faith in me, Kid."

Having heard enough the figure crouching in the shadows silently stole away.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

As daylight took the place of moonlight the night suddenly seemed to have been uncommonly short and, assuming this day to be their last, neither Hannibal Heyes nor Kid Curry welcomed the dawn. At the sound of moccasin-clad footsteps each felt the other's back stiffen.

Accompanied by a number of braves, an imposing-looking warrior with two stripes of coloured war paint across his face entered the tipi. He stood in silence, casting a pair of cold, dark eyes over the two captives. Although dressed similarly to the others, insofar as he wore buckskin breeches and long-leg moccasins and his long black hair was kept from his eyes by a red headband, what set him apart was the shirt he wore. It was made out of deer hide and decorated with red and blue beads arranged in symmetrical patterns down the front and along the sleeves, the underside of which were edged in quill-bound strands of hair taken from a horse's tail. He was obviously someone of importance.

"I hope you've got that plan of yours all figured out," Kid managed to murmur before his parched throat brought on another coughing fit.

Pointing to one of the braves the warrior barked an order. The brave swiftly left the tipi, reappearing almost immediately with a water skin which he uncorked and, grabbing a handful of blond curls, pulled Kid's head back and put it to his lips. Kid Curry froze but his thirst proved greater than his fear and he took some well-needed gulps. As the skin was re-corked he glared at the warrior and, even though he knew he would not be understood, jerked his head toward Heyes and demanded, "What about my friend?!" A nod from the warrior ensured Heyes also received a few mouthfuls of water. Both men welcomed the drink but couldn't help but feel a little bemused as to why such a precious resource was being given to two condemned men.

All the time they were taking a drink, the warrior studied them. Moving round to look more closely at Heyes he roughly seized a handful of the material on the shoulder of his dark blue shirt. Now it was Heyes' turn to stiffen. A discussion took place with another brave who pointed at Heyes' hat which lay on the dirt floor beside him. Abruptly, the warrior turned and left, the other braves trailing after him.

"Sheesh, I wonder who that was."

Heyes was already pondering this question but the only answer he had for his partner was a shrug.

"He was real interested in your shirt. Why do you suppose that was?"

"Probably wants it...after," Heyes answered, flatly.

"You don't think he suspects you're with the cavalry, do ya?"

"I hope not. But, it would be just our luck if he does."

Kid Curry rolled his eyes and muttered. "That doggone shirt."

"Don't go getting started, Kid. We don't want to spend what little time we have left griping at each other."

There was a pause in their conversation while they considered this dire prospect. Eventually Kid remarked, "Strange they gave us some water, huh?"

Heyes frowned. "I was surprised at that."

"Maybe they're gonna keep us alive so they can trade us."

"For what?"

"I dunno. Guns? Horses? You work it out, Heyes, you're the one with the brains."

"Well, right now my brain is feeling a lot like my hands — numb."

"Mine are numb too. I'm expecting my backside to join them any minute."

Luckily, before anything else had a chance to go numb two braves returned and while one covered them with a rifle the other untied their hands, each man gasping as the hide strips were pulled from the drying lacerations on their wrists and a blood supply began its slow, fiery progress back along their arms. The ropes around their ankles were also cut.

Heyes bent his knees which were stiff from being in the same position all night long. "Jeez, that hurts!" he said, trying to move his arms and flex his fingers.

Like his partner, Kid Curry didn't attempt to stand but instead concentrated on massaging away the excruciating pins and needles which were worryingly enveloping his gun hand. He frowned as the lacerations from the bindings began to ooze again. "Yeah, and there I was complainin' about not having any feeling."

Both men's attention was so focussed on their hands and wrists that they didn't notice when the door flap was pushed back and a dusty brown slouch hat dipped to fit through the opening. Dressed in a blue calico shirt under a fringed buckskin jacket, and grey pants supported by a pair of leather suspenders the owner of the hat straightened with a smile.

"Well, if it ain't my old friends, Smith and Jones!"

Heyes and Curry momentarily forgot their discomfort. "Caroline!" they exclaimed in unison, their eyes wide as they looked in astonishment at the unkempt figure of Caroline Rangeley standing in front of them.

"What the devil are _you_ doing here?" Heyes enquired unnecessarily, it being pretty obvious that Caroline had been taken captive.

"Well, I ain't here on vacation! What d' ya think?"

"Are you alright?" Bruises on the woman's face and neck had not escaped Kid's notice.

"Huh, nuthin' I can't handle, dearie," answered Caroline. "Ain't that right, Barney?"

Heyes smirked. This somewhat eccentric woman had amused him repeatedly the last time they met, especially her habit of suddenly looking skyward to speak to her dead husband.

"We've seen Apache Springs. Looks like quite a raid."

"It was. They came outta nowhere, screamin' like banshees. A killin' and a scalpin'. Fair tore the place apart." Reverently she pulled off her hat revealing matted grey-blonde curls. "Smithers didn't make it. God rest his soul."

Heyes shuddered at the memory of Smithers' rotting corpse.

"How long have you been here?" asked Kid.

"Hard to say... a month, maybe a little longer."

"Ain't you tried to escape?"

"Sure did. First chance I got," admitted Caroline. "Doggone savages hunted me down and brought me back. Then they took a switch to my feet." Both men winced. "Couldha been worse," she added. "I've heard tell some will cut off one of your feet if you try to run."

Heyes and Curry exchanged a worried glance. The instant an opportunity presented itself running was exactly what they planned to do.

"I've brought you fellas somethin' to eat."

"What is it?" Kid was wary but interested, nonetheless. "If it's made outta bugs, I ain't eatin' it."

"Aaw no, they don't eat bugs. These here are acorn cakes." Caroline sat down and handed each man something resembling a flatbread.

Despite his empty stomach Kid's first bite was tentative. Heyes eyed his suspiciously while Kid chewed several times and swallowed. He nodded. "Not bad."

Caroline offered a water skin. "Here. Take some water with it. It's kinda dry."

While Kid took a drink, Heyes asked, "What went wrong? Fielding was sure the Chiricahua would go back to the reservation."

"They went back alright, but they only stayed so long as Geronimo was there too. A few months back he broke out, takin' a whole bunch o' braves with him. Took the army weeks to hunt 'em down. When they caught him they figured he was too much of a troublemaker to send back to the reservation. So, they took him all the way to Fort Bowie and locked him up. Grey Hawk and them that was left, they headed into these hills."

"Grey Hawk. Was he the chief we saw earlier?" asked Heyes.

"Kinda fierce lookin'. Fancy shirt," added Kid.

"Yeah, that's him but he's no chief, not yet anyways."

Kid handed the water skin to Heyes who took a long swallow before surmising, "So, Geronimo being taken prisoner set them on the warpath."

"Huh, huh, that's only the half of it, dearie," exclaimed Caroline, her sharp grey eyes darting between Heyes and Curry as she warmed to her story. "These Apaches, they think Geronimo has some kinda magical powers. Well now, the Major at the fort, he didn't like that, didn't like it at all. So, he took all of Geronimo's medicine-man flapdoodle and locked it up good and tight in a strongbox. It was bein' taken to Bowie Station to be put on a train for Washington when the wagon and riders was set upon by Grey Hawk's war party. They murdered every last one of them troopers and made off with the box. The captain was taken alive."

Kid swallowed his last mouthful of acorn cake and asked, reluctantly, "What happened to him?"

"They tried to make him open the box. I don't know if he didn't know how, or plain wouldn't do it, but... it took him an awful long time to die. Sure weren't pretty."

Heyes experienced a sudden loss of appetite. "Grey Hawk seemed real interested in this shirt I'm wearing. They don't think we're with the army, do they?"

Troubled blue eyes looked at Heyes and their owner growled, "I keep tellin' ya that shirt looks like an army one. We gotta get outta here or we're gonna end up like that captain." A sudden rush of adrenalin negating his discomfort Kid jumped to his feet to the sound of two rifles being cocked.

Heyes looked around warily. "I'd sit down if I were you, Thaddeus," he advised with a tight smile. "I think you're making them nervous."

Caroline held up her hands. "Now fellas, everythin's gonna be alright," she mollified. "I already told Grey Hawk you're not with the army. So, as long as you do what he wants they probably won't kill ya. They might even let ya go. Just don't do nuthin hasty."

Grudgingly, Kid lowered himself to the ground. Narrowing his eyes he asked, "You told Grey Hawk? How?"

"He speaks a little English — picked it up on the reservation."

This piece of information immediately aroused Heyes' interest. If Grey Hawk could understand English there was a chance he might be able to talk their way out of this.

"Time I was goin'." Caroline reached for the water skin but Heyes grabbed hold of her wrist.

"Hold on a minute. What did you mean,_ 'do what he wants'_? What have you said to him?"

"Oh, nuthin much. I told him who y' are, that's all."

Beneath the floppy brown bangs, Heyes' brow creased. "Yeah, I'm Joshua Smith."

"And I'm Thaddeus Jones," added Kid.

Caroline glanced heavenward. "Huh, huh, didn't I tell ya Smith and Jones was a tip off for somethin', Barney!" Coming back down to earth she narrowed her eyes at the two puzzled men. "I know those ain't your real names 'cause last night I heard you two talkin'."

With a sigh Heyes loosened his grip allowing Caroline to pull her arm free and the two former outlaws looked at one another as they realized that, not expecting anyone in the Indian camp to be able to understand them, they hadn't been using their aliases.

"You're Kid Curry and you're Hannibal Heyes and _you_..." she jabbed a finger at Heyes, "..._you've_ got somethin' of a reputation for breakin' into safes and suchlike. You can open that strongbox and—."

Outside, footsteps could be heard approaching. Caroline got to her feet at the same time as Grey Hawk entered the tipi. He pushed her roughly to one side.


	4. Chapter 4

Grey Hawk was not an Apache chief but he was most certainly a leader of men. He had proven himself to be a fierce warrior many times over and had become greatly feared by the enemies of the Chiricahua. He had fought in battles against other tribes, the Mexicans, and the United States Cavalry and in doing so had taken many scalps. When it came to those responsible for taking Geronimo captive, as well as the United States government for virtually imprisoning his wife and children on the reservation, his anger at the white man ran deep.

"You," he said, staring down at Heyes. "Talks to Sky, she say you not 'blue-shirt'."

Thinking Caroline's given Apache name fitted her perfectly Heyes smiled and slowly got to his feet.

"That's right." Willing himself to appear calm under the warrior's intense scrutiny Heyes leaned on one hip and tucked his thumbs into his belt. "I've never been in the army, or worked for them, and neither has my partner."

"She say, you open army box."

"That's possible," admitted Heyes with a nod.

Grey Hawk scowled. "What this _'possible'_?"

"Possible?" Heyes smiled again, cheekily this time. "Oh, it means that I may do it, but then again... I may not."

Not quite believing the cavalier attitude his partner was taking and regardless of his lifelong faith in Heyes' silver tongue, Kid scrambled to his feet and mumbled through clenched teeth, "Are you outta your mind? We can't afford to dicker."

Giving no outward sign that he had heard him Heyes continued to smile while Grey Hawk continued to scowl.

"You open," he demanded.

"Well now, that depends on whether we can agree on a deal."

Having already witnessed the Chiricahua's imagination and skill when it came to killing enemy captives, Caroline looked anxiously at Heyes. "Uh, it ain't a good idea—" A sharp look from Grey Hawk silenced her.

"You no open box, he die," the Apache stated, pointing at Kid. "Then, you die."

Heyes shrugged. "Well, it's up to you, of course, but if anything happens to my friend here I won't help you. Kill me and you'll never have what's inside. There ain't a man in these parts can open a strongbox without a key 'cept me," he added with conviction. He had opened that safe back at Apache Springs in four minutes, how hard could a couple of padlocks be?

"Mister Heyes, I wouldn't—"

Because the female captive had dared to speak out of turn for a second time, Grey Hawk span round and struck her hard across the face. Caroline staggered backward but quickly regained her composure enough to regard the warrior defiantly.

Kid Curry may not have been in his eyeline but Heyes could sense him bristling at the abuse. Loathe to take his eyes off Grey Hawk he reached back and planted a steadying hand in the centre of the gunman's chest; a firm reminder not to make any rash moves.

Grey Hawk drew back his hand again, but before he could inflict another bruise Heyes said quickly, "Alright, alright. I get it. You want what's inside that strongbox. I'll open it, but only if I have your word that, when I'm done, you'll give us our guns and our horses and let us go. And we take Caroline, uh... Talks to Sky with us."

"Come." Grey Hawk turned to leave.

"Not until we have a deal. Deal?"

Ignoring Heyes' outstretched hand Grey Hawk nodded curtly and clasped his hands together in front of his chest. Assuming this was as good as a handshake Heyes did the same.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Squinting in the sunlight, Heyes and Curry stumbled a little on legs stiff from inactivity as they were escorted across the camp to a slightly larger tipi, the outside of which was painted with all manner of brightly-coloured symbols.

"You." Grey Hawk pointed at Heyes and then at the tipi entrance.

"My friend comes too."

"No."

"Why not?" demanded Heyes.

"He wait here."

Heyes glanced up at the cloudless sky. "Not in this sun, he don't. It's too hot."

"Open box, fast." Grey Hawk said simply, then ducked inside.

"I don't need another reason, you know!" Heyes yelled after him. "Our freedom is good enough!"

Hoping the alarm he felt didn't show, Heyes' eyes locked on those of his equally concerned cousin.

Strong hands held his arms but still Kid managed to lean toward his cousin and murmur, "Don't worry about me, Heyes. If things turn sour... any chance you get to run, _take it_. Don't look back. Y' hear me?"

The sentiment in those words together with the fear only he could detect in his cousin's voice cut Heyes to the quick and, as he dipped his head to enter the tipi, he took a long look over his shoulder toward the stoically struggling blond and prayed that it wouldn't be the last.

A shove from behind sent Hannibal Heyes sprawling onto the ground at Grey Hawk's feet. For a few seconds he sat in the dirt, blinking his eyes while they adjusted to the dim interior, before shooting a malicious look at the man who had pushed him.

"So, where is it?"

Grey Hawk stepped to one side to reveal a large object covered by a blanket.

"Okay," said Heyes, summoning up an air of bravado. "Let's see what we've got here." With a flourish, he threw the blanket to one side.

Outside, Kid Curry had been dragged to the centre of the camp where he was forced to his knees, stripped to the waist and his boots and socks removed. Several braves then pinned him down on his back while his arms and legs were each tied to a stake, leaving him spread-eagled on the hot dry earth — earth which he couldn't help but notice was liberally stained with what he assumed was the blood of the army captain.

Kid tested the bindings; they were tight and didn't budge. He turned his head from side to side in a futile attempt to escape the glare which, even with his eyes shut, felt as if it was blinding him. He knew his chances out here bare-chested and hatless were not good; his skin might be tanned but it would not take long under a sun this intense before it started to burn and blister. Having blond hair and blue eyes often proved to be an asset when it came to romancing the ladies, but taking after his mother was a distinct disadvantage in a situation such as this.

The simple act of testing the bindings had started his wrists bleeding again and Kid could already feel himself starting to sweat. Knowing that a heightened state of anxiety would only make things worse he tried to focus his mind on remaining calm. In his early days as a gunman it had taken him a while to find a method for getting his emotions under control and he had been grateful that, until he had figured it out, the treasonous rivulet of sweat that had trickled down his spine each time someone called him out had not been visible. Kid was certain that, had Heyes been aware of it, his partner's faith in his ability to keep them alive may not have been quite so resolute.

All the time they had ridden together Kid's faith in his partner's skills had never wavered. Since their teenage years he had witnessed him open many different models of safe and all manner of locks with relative ease. He reassured himself that there was nothing to worry about; Heyes would have that box open in minutes.

The former train robber had seen plenty of payroll strongboxes in his time, both army and civilian, but this one was unusually large and extremely strong. So strong, it had successfully withstood every attempt to break it open. His initial assessment was that it had been pounded with rocks — lots of them — as the Apaches strove to access the contents. The metal exterior was scratched, scraped and badly dented, but its structural integrity was still very much intact.

Heyes carefully examined the two battered padlocks securing each end. One was dented but ultimately pickable, the other however, posed a problem largely due to half of it being squashed flat. He then turned his attention to the main integral lock. This looked to be full of dirt and debris, the result of being dragged along the ground all the way back to the camp after the raid on the army wagon. Pictures flashed through his mind of the time he, the Kid, and the Devil's Hole Gang had pulled a Brooker 202 safe from an express car and dragged it behind their horses up into the mountains in the hope of busting it open by dropping it off a big one. He quickly dismissed the memory — it was not a good one. That endeavour had failed, miserably.

Trying to look more confident than he was feeling, Heyes said, "I've got some tools in my saddlebags that can open this. Can somebody fetch them, please?" He hoped that their belongings had not yet been ransacked by the Indians who had taken them captive, otherwise he would somehow have to make do with the pick concealed in the lining of his hat, and his knife.

Grey Hawk barked an order and while a brave went to look for the saddlebags Heyes wriggled his fingers inside the top of his right boot to pull out the small knife concealed there and which he had only this minute realized had not been taken from him. One of the braves standing guard lunged forward and snatched it from his hand.

"Hey! I need that!" Heyes looked earnestly at Grey Hawk. "_I really do need it_. If I'd have wanted to hurt anyone I'd have used it by now, wouldn't I?" he reasoned.

The warrior signalled to the brave to give it back and Heyes immediately set to work on the one lock that he was certain he could pick. About a minute later there was a click and the padlock sprang open. Heyes unhooked it from the box and held it aloft for Grey Hawk to see. "There's one," he declared casually, but only after silently breathing out the lungful of air he had been holding.

Soon both sets of saddlebags arrived. One was tipped upside down strewing the contents over the tipi floor. Heyes made a grab for the small canvas tool roll as soon as he saw it hit the ground. Selecting a pick with a fine point he began to manipulate the second padlock. After a number of abortive attempts he swapped it for a different one and tried again. This process was repeated several times, but still he could not move the internal mechanism and the lock stayed firmly shut. Frustrated, Heyes sat back on his heels and ran both hands through his hair. He hadn't come across a padlock putting up this much resistance in years but then again, he hadn't tried to open one that was this badly damaged before.

Having come to the conclusion that the flattened exterior must be pressing on one or more of the internal springs, he decided that maybe a little more force was called for. Now, if only he had a hammer...

"I need something to hit it with. A club of some kind." A finger pointed. "That axe will do."

Grey Hawk glanced down at the tomahawk tucked into his belt then stared back at the former outlaw through eyes narrowed with suspicion.

Heyes rattled the padlock. "I have to hit _this_ with something real hard."

"Already hit," the Apache warrior stated. "No open."

"Yes, I can see that. But it needs to be hit the right way. I have to make the insides move and they can't right now because of the way it's all busted up."

Reluctantly Grey Hawk pulled the axe from his belt and handed it to Heyes who weighed it appraisingly in his hand. He then selected the most robust pick from his tool roll and, having inserted it into the keyhole at a very acute angle, hit it tentatively with the blunt side of the tomahawk. Nothing happened. He tried again and again, hitting it harder each time until, just as he was about to admit defeat, he at last felt something give. Dropping the tomahawk Heyes used the fine pick again and after a few very tense minutes the lock sprang open.

"There. All it needed was a little help." Heyes tossed the offending piece of metal to one side and wiped the sweat from his face with his sleeve.

Meanwhile, stretched out under the blazing sun Kid Curry already felt as if his skin was on fire and his mouth was as dry as brushwood. In order to ease his aching muscles he had tried clenching and unclenching his fists but his arms were pulled taut and any attempt to flex them threatened to bring on cramp. Kid knew it was only a matter of time before his whole body felt like that. He had gone for almost three days with very little water once before and was all too aware of the physical discomfort it invoked.

Not wanting to open his eyes to the bright sunlight unless absolutely necessary, all he could do was listen to what was going around him. He soon came to realize that the Indians went about their day quietly, speaking very little, so the incongruous sound of metal against metal immediately caught his attention. Assuming that this was coming from the direction of Grey Hawk's tipi he came to the worrying conclusion that breaking into the box was not going as smoothly as his partner had anticipated. There was very rarely a sound, apart from a gratifying click, when Heyes was breaking into anything.

Kid let his thoughts drift back to one instance when he had needed to strike a padlock on a strongbox in order to get to the army payroll it contained. Despite the padlock being a little rusty, it having been at the bottom of a river for quite some time, it had still taken a number of blows with the edge of a shovel to break it open. He smiled inwardly, picturing the look of surprise on Heyes' face when the money turned out to be regular US currency and not the Confederate bills he had predicted they would find.

All at once he was brought back to the present by the casting of a shadow across his face. He opened his eyes expecting to see an Apache and was relieved to see Caroline Rangeley standing over him glancing nervously about her.

"Couldn't stand there for the rest of the day, could ya?" he quipped, dourly.

Quickly Caroline dropped down on one knee, pulled out the water skin she had concealed inside her jacket and tilted it toward Kid's mouth. He swallowed gratefully, raising his head as far as he could so he wouldn't choke.

"Thanks," he gasped. "Give me more." But, before he could take another mouthful there was an angry shout and, fearing for her life, Caroline dropped the water skin and ran. The back of Kid's head hit the ground with a dull thud and he groaned in frustration as water trickled past his shoulder to disappear into the dry earth. His groan grew even louder after a brave walked over and kicked him sharply in the ribs before picking up the water skin and drinking what little remained.

Breathing through his nose as deeply as possible Kid strove to regain the air that had been painfully forced from his lungs. He knew that the discomfort he was experiencing right now was probably nothing compared to what they could both expect should Heyes fail, but he was determined to deal with the situation moment by moment and not let his imagination run away with him.

All this didn't stop him offering up a silent invocation to his partner. _Come on, Heyes, you can do this. But, do it fast will ya. A kick or two in the ribs I can take, but they're gonna start doin' somethin' a lot worse if you take too long about it._


	5. Chapter 5

A frown etched deep lines on Heyes' brow as he contemplated the large integral lock. It had taken the best part of an hour scraping around with one of his lock picks, but he was now satisfied that all the dirt, small stones and bits of dry grass that had inadvertently been forced inside while it was dragged along the ground, had been removed. What he couldn't be sure of was exactly how much had made its way deep inside the mechanism, and right now he didn't have a solution to that problem. The atmosphere inside the tipi was hot and stuffy and he was finding it difficult to think clearly.

"Could I have some water?" he asked.

Grey Hawk made a sign to one of the guards who hurried off, returning a minute or so later with Caroline carrying a couple of water skins. She placed one of the skins next to Grey Hawk before taking the other over to Heyes who smiled his thanks, pulled out the stopper, and drank deeply.

"How's Thaddeus?" he whispered to her between gulps.

"Huh, they've got him pegged out like a buffalo hide."

"What?!" Heyes was aghast. He had not foreseen this. He had truly expected that his partner would only have to sit outside the tipi, not be staked out under the burning sun.

"I tried to give him some water," explained Caroline, "but one of them savages chased me away."

Brown eyes blazed at Grey Hawk. "My friend doesn't need to be tied down!"

Without warning the Apache leaped to his feet and with lightning speed drew a large, shiny, and no doubt very sharp, knife from his belt and held it against Heyes' cheek. "No talk. Open box. _Now_," he growled.

Angry with himself for flinching at the feel of the cold metal on his skin the former outlaw leader remained perfectly still until Grey Hawk withdrew the blade. Heyes gritted his teeth; he wouldn't let this beat him, in fact, he couldn't let this beat him — their very lives depended on it. After a few steadying breaths he lifted the water skin to his lips and took another mouthful. Swilling the water around his mouth before swallowing it Heyes almost choked as an idea suddenly popped into his head.

Gently tilting the hide skin he poured a little of the water into the lock until it flowed out, a muddy colour. He repeated this a few more times until the water ran clear, then used one of his fine picks to feel whether all the debris had been removed. Unable to be certain, but figuring it was worth a try Heyes selected the appropriate pick for the type of lock and set to work.

He had a pretty good idea what the internal workings looked like and, after what seemed like an eternity, there was the faintest of clicks followed by a strange gurgling sound. With a sigh, Heyes offered up a rare prayer of thanks and proceeded to tug at the battered lid. The second it began to move Grey Hawk pushed him out of the way and flung it open. Sheets of paper were thrown in every direction revealing an otherwise empty box.

Angry eyes turned toward Heyes. "No stick."

"Stick? What stick?"

"Spirit stick belong Geronimo. Where spirit stick?" demanded Grey Hawk, his knife once more clutched in his fist.

Heyes could only shrug. "I don't know anything about a stick."

"White man lie! Keep spirit stick."

"That would be the white man back at the fort — not me. I didn't take it, you opened the lid yourself."

"No spirit stick. No go free."

Heyes couldn't quite believe what was happening. He had hoped that coming to an arrangement with the Apache warrior was their ticket out of this mess and, through no fault of his own, it appeared to be turning sour.

"Now, wait a minute!" he protested, vehemently. "I said I'd open the box and I have. We had a deal! I've kept _my_ part of the bargain, now it's _your_ turn."

The murderous look forming in Grey Hawk's eyes would have made a lesser man recoil but Heyes held his ground. He glared back. Without warning, there was a flash and Grey Hawk stalked out of the tipi, the edge of his knife dripping blood.

Initially, there was no pain; it wasn't until he felt the warm gush down his arm, together with a faint metallic smell as blood mixed with sweat on his skin, that Heyes realized he had been cut. Clutching at a three inch split in his shirt sleeve he gasped as blood trickled through his fingers and a throbbing pain began. His stomach lurched unpleasantly in protest.

Taking advantage of the Apache's absence Caroline rushed to Heyes' side and pulled his hand away so that she could look at the wound. "It's deep. You need stitchin'."

"Don't waste your time, Caroline. Me and the Kid are gonners now for sure."

Caroline stuck out her chin and considered him thoughtfully. "Are you _really_ him, the outlaw Hannibal Heyes?"

"Soon to be the late Hannibal Heyes," mumbled Heyes, sourly. "Why?"

"Well, to tell ya the truth... the first time I laid eyes on ya I didn't figure you to be too smart, but don't Hannibal Heyes always come up with some clever plan to get him out of a fix?"

"Where did you hear that?"

Caroline shrugged. "Mighta read it someplace."

"In some dime novel, I suppose?"

"That don't matter. What they all say is, he's real smart."

Battling against a mixture of pain, anger, and disappointment Heyes stated miserably, "Clearly not smart enough."

Now Heyes' faith in his own abilities was the stuff of legend, but right at this minute the former leader of the Devil's Hole Gang couldn't decide which of his recent failures was vexing him the most — heading into Indian country to retrieve the gold, or thinking he could strike a deal with a bunch of blood-thirsty Chiricahua. Grey Hawk had given the impression that he was a man of honour and Heyes had not for one minute doubted that the warrior would keep his part of the deal. He certainly hadn't expected there to be some kind of unspoken 'fine print' regarding the presence of a spirit stick.

Blinking back tears at the look of despair on the face of the good-looking young man who had sought her freedom along with his own, Caroline said, "Well, I don't care what you say, I'm gonna patch y' up anyhow. You got a sewing kit?"

Heyes nodded.

Caroline reached for the unopened saddlebag and rummaged around inside, eventually pulling out a small tin. Having examined the contents, completely straight-faced she asked, "Which colour thread would ya like?"

Stunned by the absurdity of the question Heyes stared at her nonplussed before answering. "I dunno. How 'bout one that'll match my eyes. _Can you get on with it?!_"

After poking the thread at the needle a few times Caroline said, "I don't see so good these days, I need daylight," and sidled nearer to the entrance.

Still clutching his wound Heyes picked up one of the discarded pieces of paper. It was old; part of a ledger by the look of it and appeared to have nothing whatsoever to do with Fort Bowie. It didn't make any sense. Why transport worthless papers in a strongbox under armed guard? There had to be a really good explanation why this box was being sent all the way to Washington. Maybe it was a decoy. It felt like a million questions were crowding into his brain all at once leaving no space for him to think.

Aware for the first time of an increase in volume from the voices outside Heyes joined Caroline at the door flap and he swallowed hard as he caught his first glimpse of Kid Curry. Even from this distance he could clearly see the rapid rise and fall of his cousin's chest and his heart sank at the cause. A number of braves were busy adding sticks and rocks to a fire they had made not very far away from the soles of his bare feet.

"You'd better think real quick, Mister Heyes, 'cause they won't wait a whole lot longer before—"

"Don't say it!" Heyes interjected sharply before Caroline could speak the words he didn't want to hear. "Just sew."

Heyes did his best to breathe calmly and steadily as the needle pierced his already inflamed flesh and the coarse thread drew the edges of the wound together. With his jaw tightly clenched he tried to focus his mind, not on the pain or the plight of his partner, but on the conundrum which was the empty box.

When the final knot was tied, Caroline let the remaining thread slip from the eye of the needle. Adrenalin now coursing through his veins Heyes found he could no longer sit still, but after only a minute of pacing back and forth, pain and shock together with the oppressive atmosphere began dotting his vision with specks of light and making his surroundings spin and sway. Not wishing to embarrass himself by passing out he deliberately sank to his knees, slowly sucking in air.

As soon as his head began to clear his anger surfaced and he punched the ground with his fist. Dammit! It was no good, he couldn't work it out. Always one to have a high opinion of himself Heyes couldn't quite believe that when it came to something as important as this he had failed to measure up.

He stared hard at the box and his eyes widened.

Not measure up?

No! It couldn't be. How the blue blazes had he missed it?! It wasn't _him_ that didn't measure up, _it was the box!_ It was deeper on the outside than it was on the inside. Much deeper.

Reaching in he tapped up and down the base with his knuckles. Despite the faint ringing in his ears it sounded hollow. That sound brought him back to full consciousness quicker than any fancy bottle of smelling salts.

Picking up the tomahawk which still lay on the ground where he had dropped it, Heyes brought the head down hard chopping through the wooden lining to reveal a shallow space underneath. Almost breathless with excitement he pulled at the wood, which put up only a modicum of resistance, to reveal the true base of the strongbox upon which rested a canvas sack. With trembling fingers he opened it and peered inside. Even in the dim light he could still make out a brightly painted object decorated with feathers — eagle feathers.

All this time Caroline had kept her distance, firstly to allow Heyes to recover his equilibrium and then, having assumed that his assault on the box was a fit of temper, to vent his anger. She remained watching him anxiously until a smile stretched from dimple to dimple, lighting up the handsome face.

"What is it?" she asked.

Before he had a chance to answer two braves entered each seizing one of his arms, causing Heyes to almost drop the bag. "Grey Hawk! I need to see Grey Hawk," he yelled.

"Itsá-tibáái. Itsá-tibáái!" Caroline's grasp of the Apache language was severely limited but she knew how to say their leader's name.

The braves ignored her.

Heyes tried as hard as he could to dig his heels into the dirt and slow their pace as they dragged him toward the fire. The idea of making a last-ditch attempt to run for it crossed his mind, but only fleetingly. Although the thought of being killed by an arrow or a bullet in the back was preferable to suffering whatever the Chiricahua had planned, he knew in his heart that he could never let the Kid die alone.

Glancing over his shoulder he saw Caroline trotting along behind. "Can you see Grey Hawk?"

Caroline shook her head.

"Find him before this goes too far, will ya?" Heyes' quick eyes had unhappily taken note of the knife blades angled into the embers alongside the rocks he had seen earlier. "Here. Take this." He managed to pass her the bag only seconds before Caroline was shoved out of the way and his legs were knocked from under him.

Exhaustion, both physical and emotional, now threatening to overwhelm him Heyes ceased struggling as the braves stripped off his shirt and undershirt, the fabric catching painfully on the crudely sown wound. Unfortunately, his arm wasn't the only part of him that had been hurt recently and Heyes gasped as his boots and socks were wrenched from his feet ripping open the drying blisters from the previous day.

"You okay, Kid?" he asked as they bound his arms and legs to four more stakes. The question was pointless, his cousin's skin was already red.

"Don't... matter." Kid croaked wearily, slowly blinking glassy blue eyes in his direction. "Guess... it's the... end of the... road, huh?" He knew Heyes would be feeling bad enough already but it was the only thing his hot, muzzy brain could think of to say.

"Well, it damn well shouldn't be," Heyes protested vigorously. "I did what he wanted, I got it open. But Grey Hawk welched on our deal."

"Aaw, no."

"Y' know, Kid, I'm starting to think we shouldha stuck to what we was good at — outlawing, or got ourselves a decent haul and high-tailed it down to South America, like you wanted. I'd rather turn myself in than it end like this." Heyes paused to take a deep shuddering breath then raised his head so he could see his cousin better. At the very same moment Kid did likewise and, as their eyes met, Heyes found it impossible to prevent his voice from cracking.

"It's...it's... been quite a ride, partner."

Kid's parched lips managed a faint smile. "Sure has."

"Jed, I—," but Heyes didn't get to finish whatever he was about to say as the braves suddenly became more agitated and the clamour surrounding them increased.

Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry closed their eyes and steeled themselves for the ordeal to come


	6. Chapter 6

The chants and war cries of the assembled Chiricahua continued for some time until a sharp command from the far side of the camp silenced them.

Curiosity getting the better of him Heyes raised his head to see the gathered braves parting in order to allow their leader passage through to the captives. He hoped that whatever was happening now was the result of Caroline giving Grey Hawk the bag and not some kind of macabre ritual.

"Hey, Kid, something's going on."

"Yeah,... our... murders."

"Maybe not. Look."

Kid Curry opened his eyes in time to see Grey Hawk halt in front of the fire. In his right hand the warrior held a brightly painted stick measuring about two feet long which was adorned with eagle talons and feathers. In his left he carried a small bag made of hide and richly decorated with beads. With an air of triumph he thrust them both aloft and loosed a loud cry which was echoed by the other braves before pandemonium broke out once more.

Grey Hawk disappeared into the throng.

"Hey, I found those! What about our deal?!" Heyes yelled after him. With a sigh, he closed his eyes again..

Seconds later, a loosening of the rawhide around his wrists took him by surprise and a glance over at Kid confirmed that the same was happening to him. The very second Heyes was free he scrambled to his cousin's side.

"Think you can get up?" He shouted in order to be heard over the noisy celebration.

Not wanting to move too quickly for fear of cramping, Kid croaked, "Give me...a minute," then gasped as Heyes began to gently rub his arms and his tender skin and stiff muscles were stimulated

"Sorry Kid, but you know this will help."

Caroline appeared at Heyes' side. "I got water. He should take a drink."

"Let's get him outta the sun first," Heyes suggested and so with him on one side and Caroline on the other they managed to heave the Kid to his feet, bracing themselves until he stopped swaying before hobbling across the camp to a tipi. Once inside, Caroline helped Kid hold the water skin to his lips and, although his instinct was to take huge gulps he also wanted to keep the water down, so he made an effort to sip slowly.

As soon as he felt able to string more than two words together without wanting to cough, Kid looked earnestly at his cousin. "This is a good sign, right?"

Having already had his hope of freedom dashed that day Heyes had no idea what was going to happen next so he shrugged his reply, adding, "Right now, I'm happy to get outta the sun."

Kid Curry pointed to his cousin's bloodied arm. "Jeez, Heyes, what happened?"

"This? Oh, 's nothing," Heyes replied, airily. "Grey Hawk got a might slick with that big ol' knife of his, that's all."

His partner's attempt at sounding nonchalant did not convince the Kid that the wound was 'nothing'. He could read the lines of pain etched around Heyes' eyes.

Now that she was reminded of the hastily tended wound Caroline left the water skin in Kid's steadying hands to investigate how her handiwork was holding up. "That'll have to be opened up again and cleaned properly," she stated, "Otherwise it'll turn bad."

Heyes grinned humourlessly. "Well, Kid, you know what our sage old grandpa used to say. _'A body should always have somethin' to look forward to'."_

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Darkening skies found the two men relaxing — as best they could in the middle of an Indian camp — having had something to eat and drink and their injuries tended to by Caroline. The indomitable woman had put aside the risk of repercussions for leaving the camp unaccompanied to forage for healing plants. Luckily, she wasn't missed and returned with a basket full of prickly pear pads which she then skillfully cut open to smear the soothing pulp liberally onto sunburned skin and blistered feet. She also prepared a yarrow poultice and applied it to the knife wound in the hope that it would stop any infection from developing.

"There," she pronounced proudly as she knotted the bandana tightly around Heyes' arm. "You're both as good as new." Neither man felt good, and not in the least bit new, but they appreciated her efforts nonetheless. All they could do now was wait; neither of them were in good enough shape to successfully make a break for it on foot, and stealing a couple of horses would be tantamount to suicide.

The celebration for the return of Geronimo's sacred tools was loud and long. Inside the tipi Kid Curry slept soundly despite the ruckus, but Heyes was restive so he elected to sit outside with Caroline watching the flames of the campfire silhouette the braves and cast their dancing shadows across the clearing.

"What do you figure our chances that Grey Hawk will let us go now?" Heyes asked.

"He'll keep his word."

"Huh! Now he's got that medicine stick, maybe. Seems to me, if I hadn't found it, Thaddeus and me would be buzzard food by morning."

Caroline regarded the former-outlaw curiously. "Whatcha call him Thaddeus for? His name's Jed, ain't it?"

Heyes smiled. "It is, but if I was to forget to call him Thaddeus when I'm talking to a stranger or worse, a lawman, that could mean a bullet in the back or twenty years in the Wyoming Territorial Prison. When we're alone I call him Kid and he calls me Heyes but, as you so kindly demonstrated, that can also be a dangerous thing to do. We have a lot to lose now we're going straight."

"You're goin' straight?"

"Yep, haven't robbed a bank or a train for over a year now and we're set on keeping it that way."

Caroline cocked an eyebrow. "Y' hafta admit, me findin' out your real names gave you a way outta here."

"That's why I made sure to include you in the deal." Heyes studied Caroline's face as she watched the Indians, then asked hesitantly, "You _do_ want to go with us, don't you?"

"What kinda question is that! 'Course I do. Where you plannin' on headin' anyway?"

The former outlaw rarely gave a truthful answer to a question like that; he didn't like to leave the slightest hint of a trail for people to follow, but this time his answer was honest. "Tucson."

"Tucson?! I gotta go back to Apache Springs."

Heyes couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. "What?! That's nothing but a graveyard. Why would you want to go back there?"

Raising her eyes to the stars twinkling above them, Caroline asked, "What d' ya' think, Barney? Should I trust 'em?"

"Caroline!" Heyes feigned offence. "You know you can trust us!"

Quickly looking right and left, then back over her shoulder, Caroline whispered hoarsely, "Gold, that's why."

Despite the fact that his desire to get his hands on more of her gold was the reason they were in this mess in the first place Heyes' interest was still aroused at the mere mention of the word, but he felt he should protest anyway.

"Oh, no, we're not gonna go lookin' for any more of your dust."

"Well, if that don't beat all!" Caroline pulled off her battered hat and thumped it on the ground beside her. "That's the reason you was out here in the first place, you thievin' varmint! You was after my gold!"

Large brown eyes blinked innocently. "Now, why would you think that?"

"Because, when I gathered up your shirt and boots after they stripped you down, I found my map in your pocket."

"Oh. The map." Heyes acknowledged, uncomfortably.

"That means you opened the hotel safe." An accusatory finger was thrust toward Heyes' face. "You thought old Caroline was dead. Figured you'd take all her gold. But you didn't find it, did ya?"

Heyes contemplated his dirty fingernails for a moment before asking, casually, "You got it cached somewhere in town?"

"He thinks I'm plum loco, don't he?" Caroline chortled toward the heavens.

If Barney didn't have an answer to this, Hannibal Heyes certainly did but, just to keep the peace, he swallowed the words hovering on the tip of his silver tongue.

"It's there, alright," replied Caroline. "But you're gonna have to take me to it. If I was to tell you where it's hid, what's to say you wouldn't leave me out in the middle o' nowhere and go take it all for y'self? Come to think of it, you might rob me anyway!"

"You know we'd never do that to you," Heyes replied, truthfully. "Anyway, I just told you — we don't do that sorta thing any more."

Narrowed eyes regarded him intently. "Alright dearie, I'll make you a deal. You take me back to Apache Springs and I'll let ya have...uh...twenty percent of the gold I got cached there."

Remembering the last time he negotiated with this woman, Heyes snorted, "Twenty percent! Let's not get into that again. It's the same deal as before. Fifty-fifty."

Caroline chewed her bottom lip pensively. She knew that she had little choice if she wanted to retrieve her dust and transport it safely. Glancing up she queried, "What d' ya say, Barney?"

After appearing to receive an answer from the afterlife and, with a touch of disappointment on her face, she turned to Heyes and confirmed, "Fifty-fifty."

Heyes smiled. He was starting to like Barney.

"I don't know how you can live with yourself," grumbled Caroline as she got to her feet and headed off across the camp. "Taking advantage of a helpless woman — again!"

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

It was fast approaching daybreak by the time the noisy celebrations finally ceased. Curry wasn't certain, but it may well have been the drop in volume that actually woke him. As usual, the instant he opened his eyes they instinctively found his partner who was leaning against a pile of colourful blankets staring through the open smoke flap overhead at a small patch of sky. Recognizing the heavy-lidded appearance of the brown eyes that turned his way as he stirred, Kid asked croakily, "You had any sleep?"

Heyes answered with his customary, "A little." Not wishing to risk their throats being cut as they slept, and without a conscious partner with whom to flip a coin, he had silently elected to keep watch. It hadn't been a difficult decision; a rested and therefore alert Kid Curry was, in his opinion, more valuable than ten armed men and besides, his arm was throbbing so badly that the chance of him falling asleep was nil. He hoped that the pain had more to do with the healing properties of Caroline's herbs than the wound becoming poisoned. If it was the latter he would be in serious trouble. Out here, miles from anywhere, he could die from the fever the poison would inevitably induce, or lose his arm if and when they managed to find a doctor.

Knowing the probable reason for Heyes' inability to sleep, Kid regarded him with concern. "The sooner we get to Tucson the sooner we can get you fixed up. That wound looked deep."

A feeble smile crossed Heyes' lips as he nodded. "Yeah, hurts like hell." Then he added, "But, we're not going to Tucson, we're going back to Apache Springs."

"We're gonna do what?!"

"Now, don't go getting proddy, Kid. While you were sleeping, me and Caroline had a little talk and we're gonna take her back to get her gold. She's got it cached somewhere in town."

"Aaww, no." Kid shook his head deciding any energy he had was best saved for putting a good distance between them and the Indians rather than arguing with his partner.

The subsequent arrival of Caroline Rangeley put a stop to their conversation anyway. She carried their saddlebags over one shoulder and two full canteens of water over the other, and in each hand she had a bowl of food.

"Hey fellas, get your boots on and get this down ya. We gotta long ride today."

"You mean, we can go? All three of us?" asked Heyes incredulously before taking a bowl and staring distastefully at the contents. The continuous pain in his arm had dulled his appetite. Kid, on the other hand, tucked enthusiastically into his.

Caroline grinned. "We sure can! They're bringin' your horses round right now. I got your guns here," she added, patting the saddlebags. Looking at Kid's sunburned skin she asked, "You okay to ride, sonny?"

Kid Curry quickly swallowed a large mouthful of what he assumed to be some kind of cornmeal mush. "I can sit a horse no matter what, so long as we're headin' away from here."

"How 'bout you, Mister Heyes?"

Heyes frowned irritably at her use of his name. "I'm fine, Caroline. And it's Smith, don't forget."

After a short discussion, both men concluded that their shirts would be more comfortable worn without a close fitting henley underneath, and with some difficulty pulled on socks and boots before limping outside into the soft dawn light.

Grey Hawk, together with a small group of Apache braves, stood next to their saddled mounts.

At the sight of their horses the discomfort in their feet disappeared as if by magic and both men fought an overwhelming urge to run toward them. Instead they walked, almost casually.

His face unreadable, Grey Hawk stepped forward. He nodded curtly. "Ahee-ih-yeh."

Heyes hesitated momentarily until Caroline translated one of the few Chiricahua words she knew. "He says, 'thank you'."

Relieved, Heyes returned the nod before pulling himself up into his saddle. He immediately kicked his boot free of the stirrup and, despite the pain in his left arm, held out his hand toward Caroline. "Quick, get up before he changes his mind," he murmured, wishing he had thought this through and insisted she mount from the other side. He hoped that the effort of hauling her up behind him wouldn't bust open his second set of stitches.

Not wishing to stay a minute longer, Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry tipped their hats, turned their horses and nudged them into a walk. Once the camp was out of sight Heyes glanced over at his partner with a twinkle in his eye and asked, "Think you're up to increasing the pace a little?"

Kid knew exactly what that meant and a broad grin lit up his face. "Thought you'd never ask!" he cried and spurred his horse into a gallop. Heyes dug in his heels and, with Caroline hanging on tightly behind him, followed his partner's dust.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Its polished brass bell clanging loudly the locomotive approached the station in a cloud of soot and steam. The assembled passengers had spent the past few minutes fidgeting in anticipation — they had heard the engine's shrill whistle from over a mile away. As the engineer applied the brake the screech of the wheels on the rails sent a tiny shiver down Hannibal Heyes' spine. That sound was still music to his ears, in much the same way as the click of the final tumbler falling into place when yet another safe succumbed to his touch. Too many holdups, he thought ruefully, too many banks.

Standing next to him on the platform were Kid Curry and Caroline Rangeley. The three had arrived in the lively town of Casa Grande late yesterday morning, dog-tired and dusty, but ultimately in good spirits. Thousands of dollars in gold dust was enough to lift anyone's spirits. A hot bath and a filling meal, followed by a comfortable night's rest in the hotel had also contributed to their newfound euphoria. Whether it was due to Caroline's doctoring or just pure luck, but Heyes had only suffered a mild fever and, although he still didn't have full use of his arm, he was relieved that the wound had been declared to be healing well by Casa Grande's doctor.

Riding back into Apache Springs hadn't been easy; the place somehow looked even more desolate than before and Heyes and Kid knew their female companion must have been recalling the horrors of the Indian raid. Thankfully, retrieving the gold dust had been simple.

Sliding swiftly from behind Heyes Caroline had hopped impatiently from foot to foot as the horses were secured to the hitching rail. She had then wasted no time in leading the two men into the hotel and up the stairs, almost breaking into a run along the corridor toward a bedroom at the front of the building. Striding along behind her Heyes and the Kid exchanged a look of disbelief when they realized this was the very same room they had shared only a few days earlier. Here Caroline supervised impatiently while they — well, Kid mostly — heaved the large iron-framed bed to one side. Then, having tugged at and tossed aside a couple of loose floorboards Caroline reached into a shallow void and, one by one, pulled out eight small sacks packed full of gold dust.

Over the next few days Caroline considered her options and had decided to take her share of the gold and journey east to Santa Fe; her sister had recently been widowed and was in desperate need of help running her small farm. It had even been suggested that Heyes and Curry accompany her and do some honest work for a change but Heyes, who was even less enthusiastic than his partner when it came to any work that might be hard on the back, had been quick to point out that until his arm was fully healed he would not be of much use when it came to farm work. A better idea would be for them to stay here in town where he and the Kid could rest up, eat and drink to their heart's content, and the most strenuous activity his arm would have to cope with would be pulling a winning pot towards him at the poker table. After that they planned on heading north — anywhere north — so long as it meant avoiding people of the native variety.

_"All aboard!"_

At the guard's cry Caroline Rangeley looked sadly from one man to the other. "Well, I guess this is goodbye, again, Mister _Smith_ and Mister _Jones_."

"Good luck, Caroline," smiled Heyes, giving her a kiss on the cheek. Kid did likewise then, as she stepped onto the narrow balcony at the rear of the very last carriage, he placed an unduly heavy carpet bag beside her. A few seconds later the train pulled away.

"So long, boys," she called to the two men as they stood waving goodbye. "Be sure and stay honest, now!"

All at once, the platform was empty.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

"I still can't believe we was sleeping on top of all that gold and never knew it," remarked Kid with a shake of his head as, two weeks later, he placed a striped saddle blanket on his horse's freshly-groomed back.

"It's probably for the best," replied his dark-haired cousin. "With that much money burning a hole in our pockets we'd have been in Tucson by now, maybe even across the border, but Caroline would still be in that Indian camp. I'd rather be a few dollars short and know we got her outta there."

"A few dollars! Did I just hear you call four thousand dollars _'a little'_?!"

Curry heaved his saddle onto the blanket and tightened the cinch. "She had some nerve though, takin' that poke of gold we'd found from wherever Grey Hawk had it hid." He paused and frowned at his partner. "Y' know, Heyes, you and Caroline have somethin' in common, 'specially when it comes to gold dust." Heyes raised his eyebrows questioningly. "You both don't mind gambling with other people's lives."

Kid's words appeared to hit home because, for once, his partner had the good grace to look a little shamefaced. "Oh, I've learned my lesson, Kid," he stated, firmly. "It makes me shiver when I think what mighta happened." Stepping to one side so that Kid could saddle his horse for him, he rubbed his chin, thoughtfully. "On the other hand, she did make us another five hundred dollars richer. I wonder how she knew where to look?"

Still encumbered by a sling Heyes made a half-hearted attempt to buckle his cinch one handed. Although Kid suspected that the sling was not really necessary any more he gently shouldered him out of the way and tightened the strap. "She told me that dead husband of hers showed her," he chuckled.

Joining in his partner's laughter Heyes reached into his saddlebags and pulled out one of the small sacks. To Kid Curry's amusement he gave the grubby bag a resounding kiss before raising his eyes to the heavens.

"Well, thank you, Barney!"

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Traditionally the tipi was not used by the Chiricahua. Instead they used a Wickiup, which is a simple circular wooden frame covered by a matting of brush and sometimes a buffalo-hide tarp which takes about three days to build. However, in order to maintain continuity between the season 2 episode, 'Six Strangers at Apache Springs', and this story I have used the tipi.


End file.
